Monologue of a Cipher

Injured and stressed, restlessness overcame. Then came the discovery of My-Space. Budding communities filled with artists of all kinds.

"Yes! why not give this online forum a try?"

Anonymity was great how I started. Poetry, seers, and live shows, Ah, a found niche. Writing the time away, needing the distraction, from secret misery. The love of reading such interesting prose, innocent enough on the surface.

"I deserve a little fun among the wretched!."

It was that thought from whence the mistake began to grow. In letting go, I lost my anonymity.

"Why did I begin to trust the clown-show of characters?!"

It was as though the smaller circles in the community started feeding off each other. Back and forth banter, each one striving to grow their craft, friendships were borne.

"The others made me grab my little black notebook!"

The others were the ones that began to stick out. In my innocence, to understand the depth of the works written, I found myself falling in love, with etymology. Drawn into the roots of the meaning of the words they were speaking. My mind began seeing messages and patterns everywhere. Capital letters that stuck out, too many misspelled words for such highly intelligent writers.

"I began to crack the code!"

After finally cracking the code, dropping off a letter to a three-letter agency. They said in later poetic communication that I was the first to ever do so, by getting to the root of the words. It had never been done before. I now knew that they knew, having nowhere to go.

"Who knew poetry could be so dangerous?!"

Learning indeed even nursery rhymes was an old route of communication. I finally sized them up to most likely be military, in cahoots possibly with a different three-letter agency. But they all certainly knew who I was now.

"Ugh! I feel him watching me again!"

One of the main characters in the clown-show that grabbed my attention, and would not let go, was the psychic. I learned psychic attacks were real. Having my first experience of watching him watching me. Yes, I could see him. No longer even able to relax with a long hot bath, in which I soaked with a fury that day. Now having become a personified targeted individual.

"I better write letters to my loved ones, just in case, so they know where to look!"

It was a major secret, had I told anyone they would have thought me mad. They did not even believe my computer had been hacked, taken over by what was figured to be at least two other entities. Now third in control, on my computer at least. I had no real control, except in my decisions. The longer it went on the list grew, too many pools in which I’d dipped my toes.

"I did not need any more problems! it was supposed to be fun after all!"

I was not having fun, and no longer trusted a soul. Knowing danger lurked everywhere, as it chased me down roads. The authority that it came from had to be quite high. It became urgent to have a backup plan, in which to escape. Survival takes precedence when push comes to shove.

"I guess I better hone my psychic ability!"

Focusing on the need for cash, lead me to dig up some blood-money. Picking a local crime story out of the paper, I began to focus on where they hid the money. After all, it was a feud between two drug dealers, one owing to the other twenty thousand dollars, the paper had said, both now dead.

I could see old train tracks, a waterfall, and a rundown building; that looked as though it had been badly burned. Yantic River Falls!, came to mind, It had old train tracks and a waterfall.

Off searching, adrenaline and guilt-filled, as I happened upon the creepy building from my mind's eye.

Gloves on, the search began, carefully making my way through debris; as the building appeared it could fully cave at any given minute. Gang-tagged walls inside reminded me of the danger. Small potatoes compared to my other problems.

A corner with a burned-out fireplace caught my attention, as it appeared too neat in comparison to the dirt heap the building was. I began to check the bricks where they were loose, pulling a few out. There inside the brick fireplace wall sat a black metal box which contained exactly 20,000 dollars.

"Just another secret I have to keep to myself!"

I could have been excited, but I wasn't. Yet my fallback plan was all in place. Back to my other, not so ordinary, problems now.

“I am so done with MySpace! What is this thing called Facebook?”

Time passed by, top authority changed, but the strange never seemed to fully go away.

"Who or what is Q?!"

Not being able to help myself, psy-op or not, I was drawn to know more. It was only then that the future proved the past, for me. Q’s quips about capital letters and misspelled words, were a personal taunt.

"Now I know who they were for sure!"

There is always some mystery left to be solved. Satisfied enough now, that it was no longer mine.

"I think I'll stick to things such as the WOW signal, that was fun!. Or maybe start back up on the Voynich Manuscript, nothing is impossible after all!."

"But then I remembered the anonymous random, warning on the latter, to be careful in sharing too much..."